Luck Of The Draw

Someone wrote me last night that things in life are the luck of the draw. Sometimes good people get cancer and are taken from us, and other times people get cancer, beat the disease and go on to do incredible things. Like win the Tour. What seems to be certain is that we don’t get to choose the challenges that life will throw our way.

For most of us, those challenges won’t get played out in the media for all to see. And our names won’t become associated (and by some, reviled) with charges of cheating, or doping, or some heinous offense. When it’s a public figure, like Floyd Landis, all too often we forget that we’re not talking about an action figure or cartoon character, we’re talking about a real person. Someone with a family, who’s trying to make a living, and trying to do his job the best he can.

Granted, Floyd can ride most of us into the ground — even on a recovery day — but he’s still just a guy trying to do his job. Only these days, his job seems to be exposing the seamy underbelly of the anti-doping world, rather than riding a bike and winning races. How much would any of us know or care about how the anti-doping system works, were it not for the Landis case and how Floyd has made as much as he can open for all to see?

People may debate on various forums whether or not the evidence shows he doped. For me, personally, I don’t find the evidence that he did very convincing. Others see it differently. But what he’s exposed to us, so clearly, is just how the system is rigged against the accused. And how costly it is for someone accused to fight a doping charge.

Sure, big name athletes like Barry Bonds or Lance Armstrong have the means to fight. But even someone who’s well-known in his sport, but not a marque brand name, like Landis was before he won the Tour, is not so financially blessed as to be able to fight doping charges without feeling a serious pinch in his pocketbook. And the little guy (or gal) who gets caught up in the machine hasn’t got a chance.

Without access to top-notch scientists and top-notch lawyers, no one can beat the ADAs. USADA’s track record is 165-0 (or something like that) right now. Is it because everyone they’ve charged has been guilty, or because the system is so rigged that the innocent ones got railroaded by a system built on good intentions, but a system that’s run off the rails. My guess would be the latter.

Floyd Landis opened our eyes to all that. Regardless of what you think about him or his case, it’s hard to deny the way the system works. The public scrutiny that this has caused is doubtless uncomfortable for USADA, WADA and all the other agencies charged with rooting out doping in sports. But it’s necessary, and it’s the best medicine to cure a system that’s out of control.

Through it all, Landis has handled himself with a good-natured manner, and held his head high. Twelve days from now the real action begins. Everything up to now has just been training for the stage race known as the arbitration hearings, starting at Pepperdine University on the 14th. It’s hard to predict what the outcome will be, but I’ll offer this, not as a prediction, but a little bit of wisdom learned from my dad.

In the final days of my dad’s life, he wouldn’t give up. Stiff upper lip, being English and all. Even though cancer robbed him of his ability to walk without support or help, he would insist on walking to the mailbox, which couldn’t be more than 100 yards from his front door. The last two times we took that walk it probably took 5 minutes and he was more winded that I have ever been — even after the most intense sprints. But he was determined.

Hospice delivered a wheelchair for him to use. He wouldn’t. He refused. To his last day, he insisted on moving under as much of his own power as he could. It was hard to see, but my dad was determined to give it his best effort.

He used to tell me when I was a kid, if you’ve given your best effort, then there’s nothing to be afraid of. There are things in life we can’t control, but if we put in our best effort, we should be proud of whatever we accomplish.

I can’t predict how the Landis case will be decided. One thing, though, is certain. Floyd Landis didn’t choose this fight, but he has given it his all. I believe he deserves to win and to be back on the road, racing again. But ultimately, the decision rests with three men who will sit and decide his case.

Come what may of the hearings and possible appeals, opening the public’s eyes to the way the anti-doping system really works and providing an impetus for change may be the biggest legacy of this whole sad, sordid saga. And for that, we have to thank Floyd Landis for having the guts to put it all out there for all of us to see.